


Long Distance

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson and his ridiculous crush on Skye, Coulson being pretty forward, Coulson likes it when Skye tells him what to do, Coulson loves the sound of Skye's voice, Coulson loves to say Skye's name, F/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye has been away undercover for almost three weeks, and Coulson has been re-evaluating his feelings for her and his non-fraternization policy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly an experiment with doing dialogue differently. And them saying each other's names a lot. :P

“Hello?”

There’s a click and a second of silence.

“It’s me.”

He has a moment of panic because she shouldn’t be calling here — not while she’s out undercover — and her voice is barely above a whisper.

“ _Skye_. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Is this safe?”

“Burner phone. And I won’t say anything incriminating. I just...wanted to talk to you. Is that okay?”

The fear in his gut dissipates, turns to pleasure at hearing her voice. But she sounds too shy, really unsure about whether it’s okay.

“Of course it’s okay. I’ve missed you.”

There’s a small, surprised breath, like a gasp. He understands why she’d be surprised to hear him say it, but he hopes she would never doubt that he would miss her.

“You have?”

“It’s been almost three weeks.” Today had marked the nineteenth day, and it’s more like twenty now since it’s after midnight. It’s the longest he’s gone without talking to her, seeing her, sitting with her, since they met. And it’s made some things startlingly clear to him — things which, unless he’s been misreading the situation horribly, Skye figured out a long time ago.

“But you’ve had so much to do —”

“Without you.”

“I know I could have helped, especially with the new security system, but —”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“...oh.”

There’s a long pause, the space of several breaths between them.

“I miss you, too.”

“You’ve been gone for almost three weeks, and I know it’s been pretty solitary —”

“Yeah, but I’m used to being away from people. And I’m used to being alone a lot. I mean, before I joined up with you I would sometimes go three or four days without actually speaking to someone.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“It’s better now.”

Her voice is so dismissive of the bad things in her past.

“I just meant...I miss _you_ , Coulson.”

“...oh.”

It’s a soft little sound that barely carries to the receiver, an expression of the way that his skin prickles with excitement at the sound of her saying that. This is _different_. But good different. Very good different.

Another pause stretches between them.

“So, talk to me. That’s why I called.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Something nice. What Simmons made for breakfast.”

“Simmons is on a pancake kick. Today was blueberry.”

“And you’ve actually been eating with the team?”

“...yes.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“You were right. It _has_ helped. Everyone seems more comfortable.”

“You have that effect on people.”

“Does that include you, too?”

It comes out flirtier than he intended, and she lets out a breathy laugh.

“I called you, didn’t I?”

It’s like a stone dropping in the bottom of his stomach.

“...does that mean… Skye, has something happened?”

“No. Like I said, I just missed you.”

“And you’re uncomfortable?”

“Sort of. It could be a lot worse. I’m just alone most of the time. And I sort of got used to some nicer amenities than they have around here, you know?”

It calms him. He has _really_ needed to hear her voice, to _know_ that she is okay.

“Where are you right now?”

“My room.”

“It’s pretty bad?”

“It’s _maybe_ six by eight, and definitely not comfortable.”

“Sounds like a prison cell.”

“Well, it is. Mostly. A lot of the hackers here have clearly come from worse, though — at least two guys just got out of _actual_ prison — so there’s not much incentive to change things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I volunteered for this.”

“I’m empathetic, then.”

“Thanks.”

He can almost hear her smile.

“Are the rooms empty like prison cells, too?”

“Yeah. Blank walls. A bed, a dresser, and a desk. And not a fun desk, like yours.”

“Are you sitting at the desk?”

“On the bed. Why?”

“Just wanted to picture you.”

And that might have been too much information — he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“Because you _miss_ me.”

She’s teasing him — not too uncomfortable, then.

“Hmm.”

He really does miss her, and he doesn’t care if she knows. He _wants_ her to know that someone is thinking about her — that even when she’s not here, she’s still an important member of the team.

“I don’t even need to ask about you. You’re at your desk, and it’s late so you’ve taken off your jacket and your tie. And since we started talking, you’ve leaned back in your chair and are wishing that you didn’t have so much stuff on your desk so you could put your feet up.”

He looks down at his rumpled shirt, open at the top two buttons, and smiles.

“I just nailed it. Right?”

“Pretty much. I didn’t realize you paid so much attention to the state of my tie throughout the day.”

“Mmm. I have detailed notes.”

It’s almost too much: Her quiet hum, the soft cadence of her voice, her confirmation that she watches him with some sort of interest.

“So, you wanna know what I’m wearing, AC?”

“ _S_ _kye_ .”

It comes out a lot more pleading than he intends; sounds a lot more like a _yes_ than he intends.

“It’s just my pajamas. You’ve seen them before.”

“Yes.”

He _has_ seen them before, has a way-too-vivid mental image of walking into Skye’s room to see her in red flannel pants and a tight white tank top, thin enough that he could make out the darker color of her areolae before managing to pull his eyes away.

“You’re thinking about my pajamas right now, aren’t you?”

Her voice is playful, and maybe a little confused. He doesn’t normally share things — like the fact that he’s missed her. And he doesn’t normally let it go so far when they flirt.

“Yes.”

Skye literally gasps on the other end of the phone.

“Coulson, you’re feeling okay, right?”

“Of course.”

“Because you’re being a little weird.”

“Am I?”

“Have you been sleeping?”

“I’ll sleep better when you’re back.”

There’s a long pause.

“Coulson —”

“You should call me Phil.”

He hears her swallow on the other end of the line, hears her really understanding what he means.

“You asked me not to.”

“Yes, and now I’m asking you to.”

“Phil.”

He exhales at the sound of his name from her mouth, spoken directly into his ear. It’s almost unbelievable, how much he has missed the sound of her voice.

“I _miss_ you.”

The words come out so much more pathetic than he means to sound, and they’re greeted with a long silence and then a sharp inhalation.

“How much do you miss me?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Me either.”

“ _Skye_.”

This isn’t his plan — though he has been making one, has been thinking through how this could go when he sees her next.

“When I get back —”

“I want things to change.”

“Change how?”

“You _know_ how.”

“Maybe I need you to be really clear with me, since you’re my boss and I don’t want to do something inappropriate?”

“Maybe I need _you_ to be really clear with me, since I’m your boss and I don’t want to do something inappropriate.”

“Touche.”

There’s a long pause between them, and he wonders for a moment if they’re about to run back from the edge of _this_ . Whatever _this_ is. But he quickly decides that no, he can do this.

“I want to kiss you.”

She draws in a long, slow breath at his words, lets it out.

“Where?”

“ _Everywhere_.”

“Tell me?”

“Your lips. And your neck.”

Any awkwardness he feels evaporates at the breathy, aroused sound of Skye’s voice.

“Where else?”

“You have to tell me. Tell me what you like.”

“Under my ear.”

“Yes.”

“Use just a little bit of teeth.”

The image it pulls up — of bending over Skye and burying his face in her neck, of nipping at the sensitive skin under her ear, of hearing her moan at the press of his tongue against her pulse — sends a surge of lust through his body, lodges in his cock. He presses down against himself through his pants.

“ _Yes_.”

Skye makes a sexy little noise at his adamant reply — somewhere between a moan and a gasp — and he presses against himself harder, feels his cock pulse under his hand.

“I want your mouth on my breasts.”

“God, Skye, you have no idea how much I wish I could give that to you right now.”

He hears several seconds of fumbling before her breathing is back on the line.

“Did you just take off your shirt?”

“Mmmhmm.”

His mouth goes dry, and it strikes him as monstrously unfair that he can’t see her or touch her.

“You wanna see, don’t you?”

“ _Yes_.”

She laughs — a breathy, giddy sound.

“I never thought you’d admit it. All I had to do was leave for a few weeks, huh?”

“Skye.”

“You can see when I get back. And touch.”

He moans, unable to form words, as his cock manages to get somehow harder. Almost thoughtlessly, he begins to struggle with his belt buckle, needing to free himself. To touch himself.

“Phil, are you —”

“ _Yes_.”

“Wait.”

He stops his hand, leaves his pants open and his cock pressed uncomfortably into his inseam.

“Waiting.”

“Unbutton your shirt.”

His breath catches, and he swallows down a negative response.

“I get that you’re...sensitive about it.”

Coulson lets out something between a laugh and a sob because the truth is that ‘sensitive’ is too soft a word. He tries to pretend that the scar isn’t there as much as possible, doesn’t like the reminders, definitely doesn’t sit around without a shirt on. The moments when it itches — when it makes itself felt on his skin — are the worst.

“But it’s  _you_. And I —”

“It’s ugly.”

“So are mine. But I’m still going to let you see them.”

He lets out a breath, feels a stab of guilt.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to —”

“I get it. I _do_. You don’t have to apologize.”

He swallows.

“No part of you could be ugly.”

“I feel the same about you. So will you please take off your shirt?”

So he does. It’s the first time — the first time ever — that he’s willingly sat in a room with his shirt off, with his scar exposed. But he does it, and when she starts talking again, it stops feeling like a big deal.

“You have really sexy arms. You don’t even know how much I want to touch them. I get so distracted when you wear t-shirts.”

He swallows at the compliment. It’s not that he doubts his own attractive qualities, but there’s something unreal about Skye — _Skye_ — wanting him like this.

“You can touch yourself, now.”

His hand races back down, pushes his pants down as far as they’ll go, and then wraps a tight fist around his cock. A groan, needy and wanting, escapes from the back of his throat, but he keeps his grip still.

“Can I…”

His question trails off, and he wonders for a second why he’s even asking.

“ _Yes_. God, Coulson. You asking is so hot.”

As he starts moving his fist over himself, he hears a soft sigh on the other end of the line. His brain supplies an image of Skye — topless Skye — with her hand under her pajama bottoms.

“Are you —”

“Uh huh.”

Silence falls between them, punctuated by rapid breaths and shallow moans, and Coulson keeps the image of her half-naked body fixed at the front of his brain, enjoys every sound she makes. He misses her voice, though — the way it makes the hairs on his neck stand up when she laughs just right.

“Keep talking to me.”

It comes out as begging, and Skye laughs in response.

“Not sure I can talk.”

She pants for several seconds before continuing, her voice soft and sexy in his ear.

“I really want to do this in person. I want to see you.”

“ _God_ , me too.”

“I want to _touch_ you.”

“ _Yes_.”

His hand works faster, hips thrusting upward even in his awkward position in his chair, and he groans as he gets _so close_.

“ _Skye_.”

“ _Phil_.”

The sound of his name is what gives him the final push, leaves him arching out of his chair and spilling onto his chest and stomach.

“Skye...Skye…”

Her name is his mantra as he gathers himself, draws in shuddering breaths to calm down.

“ _Phil_.”

Her voice is almost pleading.

“When you get back, I’m going to keep you in bed for _days_.”

The promise slips out, and the sound of her resulting moan sends a shiver down his spine.

“Tell me.”

“Anything you want. I’ll do anything you want, Skye.”

“Does that include oral sex?”

“Until you can’t move. Until you’ve come so many times you’ll beg me to stop.”

“ _Phil_.”

She’s quiet as she comes, just hitched breath and a tiny sound at the back of her throat. He wonders if she’s ever loud; if she’s holding it back because of the public nature of the dormitories there. He’s fascinated by the sound of every harsh breath she sucks in, is happy to listen to her come back to herself, almost not bothered by the fact that he’s half-naked and messy in his office.

“So, that happened.”

Her voice is wry, maybe nervous, and it makes him laugh.

“Yes, it did.”

“No regrets?”

“Of course not.”

Except possibly that it happened at his desk instead of in his bed. Except possibly that it happened while she’s half a world away instead of here with him.

“Good.”

“I’m glad you called.”

She laughs this time, and it makes him smile.

“So this is real? When I get back…”

“Yes. If...if that’s what you want.”

“It is. I just never thought that you’d be okay with it.”

He sighs, drops his head back on his chair.

“I’ve never thought these kind of relationships are the best idea. But with you…”

“With me?”

“I realized this month that all of the hard decisions that I worry about — I’m not sure it _can_ get any harder. Letting you go on this mission —”

“ _Letting_ me go?”

He huffs out something like a laugh.

“You know what I mean. Being okay with your choice to go. It was hard. It _is_ hard.”

“But you’re managing.”

“Mostly.”

“But our relationship… I mean, we’re not...anything...right now.”

“ _Skye_. We’ve always been something.”

She takes a long, deep breath.

“Yeah, we have, haven’t we?”

“I’m tired of pretending that I don’t…”

He cuts himself off, doesn’t want to have this conversation this way, but he can hear Skye smiling on the other end of the line.

“God, Coulson. It’s going to be torture being away from you for two more weeks.”

He laughs and tucks himself back into his pants.

“It will. But we’ll both manage.”

“And when I get back, you’ll keep me in bed for _days_?”

She says it like it’s a joke, and Coulson shakes his head even though she can’t see.

“Just wait.”

Skye laughs delightedly, and the sound makes him smile.

“I should go. I don’t think I’ll be able to call again, but I have the Sat phone when I’m ready for extraction.”

He swallows, nods. It _is_ hard, but they can manage this.

“Stay safe, Skye.”

“You, too, Phil.”

 


End file.
